Battlefield of Ten Thousand Races.
The sky had changed. Nearly all the strongest figures in the mortal realm were fighting. Gone were the tentative probes born of countless past misgivings; all that remained was the fierce rage and desire to kill one another.
In a short time, the number of spatial rifts originally torn open by the battle between the saints and the Heavenly Dao increased. The mortal world began to see the most extreme celestial phenomena: howling winds and blizzards, thunderbolts and duststorms, and spells above the Void Refinement realm occasionally raining down upon the earth.
Ordinary people had no way to survive.
"Heavenly Rampart has fallen, the imperial capital has fallen, the Endless Forest has fallen..."
Within the Human Emperor's Throne Carriage, Min Youguo lowered his eyes. He had long foreseen all this, yet when he truly saw the images recorded in the crystal stones sent by the dynasty's cultivators, he still could not stop the desolation filling his heart. In those images were scorched earths where once-prosperous cities had stood, lands where living beings had existed before being nearly leveled by magical power. Human lives had not even had time to react before vanishing into ashes.
This situation was even affecting the living beings hidden in secret realms as "seeds of fire."
A cultivator covered in wounds had exhausted all his power to deliver the intelligence. His hands trembled. He had received far too much bad news, and every report nearly tore his heart and guts apart.
His trembling hands opened the Spirit Stone, but in moments, it rolled to the floor.
Min Youguo's expression tightened. The brief images preserved within that Spirit Stone continued to replay.
It was the Witch Tribe's battlefield. Facing the Witch Tribe's Ancestral Shamans and the Witch Tribe's totems, several hundred powerful